The All-Story, March 1914 — page 143: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

616 and thoughtful. Once more Paul took Betty's hand in his as he had often done under cover of the evening gloom. But to-1ght she shivered at his touch and clisengaged her fingers. | “Why, dearest?” he asked quietly. “T don't know, Paul.” she said, a litte wildly, “It has been so pertect to-day. I can’t stand any more happi- ness. Please, not to-night.” They were quiet during their supper. Despite their self-possession there seetned to be an ominous sultriness 1 the emotional atmosphere, presaging a storm. Neither looked directly at the other nor laughed in the old comradely way. Something intangible, indefina- ble, unnamable, had risen between them with a suggestion of tremendous power. When Betty had cleared away the dishes she lighted the living-room lamp, while Paul smoked hard. “Shall we start the Shakespeare to- night?” she asked diffidently, looking at him under drooping lids. “Wes,” he replied. “Miss Prud- homme wants the set back in a couple of weeks, so I suppose we had better begin.” ‘I'he words were flat_to their ears— ears sensitized by the suspense around thei to more exquisite and subtle vi- brations. Betty drew her finger along the volumes and presently drew one out. “You have never read Shake- speare?”’ she asked. Between them Paul's unlighted past was not considered a part of his life. Their conversation treated only of his present second existence. “No. Have you?” “ A little in school, but I’ve forgotten it all. J think Pll read this one, I've heard. so much about it.” She opened “ Romeo and Juliet.” “Yes, that sounds unteresting. * Please, you read first.” Almost sullenly he settled back upon the old plush sofa. Betty read well now with a fine, natural feeling for expression, and by the middle of the first scene had sensed THE ALEL-STORY MAGAZINE. the sonorous music of the flowing verse. From the very first Paul was. inter- ested. The power and rhythm of the lines seemed to quiet him. -As the voice of his beloved murmured on, his posi. tion on the sofa changed. He sat for- ward, his elbows on his knees and his head cocked, in the strange attitude of one listening for some sound as yet un- heard. The pipe between his fingers was long since dead. Betty, absorbed in the story, did not once look up. Romeo and his friends, as inaskers, have invaded the house of Capulet on the night of the festivity and danger hedges them in on every side. At the height of the revelry Ty- balt has recognized Romeo and pleads with Capulet that he may kill the hated Afontague at once. Then, like the sweet note of a flute against the growl of bass, the love- motif of Romeo and Jiwict in their first eager imeeting lifted itself pure and clear above the clash of factional hatred and against the gloomy back- ground of those passionate times. Paul stirred and his lips moved. The hands under his chin were clenched until the knuckles showed white, his eyes were wide, and perspiration stood out on his forehead. He seemed not to hear, and yet at the same time to be completely under the dominance of this thing that Betty read. - Now Ltomeo had kissed Juliet. He has learned from: the nurse that she is a Capulet, and Jilict has also learned that he is a hated Alontague. The inaskers have gone, and there is left that sense of vain desire and despair half-realized that makes the vearning ache of lovers but the more poignant. Paul shivered as though with an ague, but he was not feverish. He had become very pale, but upon his face a wild, unearthly look had settled. Sud- denly he pressed his hands against his head with an expression of agony as though he felt the pangs of a splitting skull. He seemed to be suffering as dumb animals suffer—mutely: to be undergoing some fearful apentaland